


Detention

by SevenOceansOfInk



Category: Original Work
Genre: Detention, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied digestion, Non-Human Genitalia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shrinking, Soft Vore, Teacher-Student Relationship, Topping from the Bottom, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 06:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7090501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenOceansOfInk/pseuds/SevenOceansOfInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A student has to face detention from his lamia teacher, and discovers that the punishment is very grave. He has a chance to survive, however, if he satisfies her conditions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detention

**Author's Note:**

> This story features a dub-con teacher/student relationship, as well as soft vore - a person being swallowed alive and whole. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> The student in this work is a high school senior, and is eighteen years of age.

Aaron stepped into the classroom, pulling the door shut behind him. The lock snapped into place, deadbolt sliding into it’s slot in the door frame. There was a lump in his throat, one built up from the long walk through the halls, from the fading sounds of the other students leaving for the day, from the final, thunderclap-sharp clack of the only entrance to the room sealing shut behind him.

The afternoon light was starting to fade - it was late in the fall, with the holidays quickly approaching. The desks cast long shadows across the floor, the floorboards striped with orange sunlight filtering in through windows with shades partly drawn. His hands were in his pockets, fingers clenched around the pink detention slip crumpled in the bottom. “Report to me after classes,” said the note he’d read and re-read multiple times, in beautiful, tall, slender handwriting. Ms. Nejem’s signature at the bottom made the punishment official and binding.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t had detention before. It was a fairly recurrent part of his high school career over the past four years. He was, however, unused to being the only student in the room.

He also wasn’t used to having Ms. Nejem oversee it.

She was sitting in shadows, bright red eyes staring out across the room in the low light. They fixed on him instantly, following him as he entered from the back of the room. “Please have a seat up front,” she said, voice drawing ever so slightly on each ‘s’ sound. “I will need to go over instructions for this session.”

He approached, moving through bands of light and dark. Ms. Nejem rose up out of her chair, gliding across the floor. He’d often considered how beautiful she was - partly as she was one of only a few liminal members of the school faculty. The dark brown of her skin stood out sharply from the gold and oak-brown scales covering her tail. Ebony black hair was drawn back, all except for her bangs, drawn up into a bun that sat high on the back of her head. Her blouse and shirt outlined the curve of her chest, the slenderness of her waist, and the side-to-side tilt of her hips as she rode across the floor.

She gestured towards one of the desks in the front row. “Up here, please.” Her other hand reached back, resting on the front edge of her desk, shifting her weight atop her tail to lean on the tabletop.

He settled down, the low seat making him feel that much smaller before her. “Before you start,” he said, forcing himself to look up, make eye contact. “I just want to apologize for class earlier…”

“That’s irrelevant to matters at hand, I’m afraid. What’s done is done.” She wagged a finger at him, mouth curling in a thin, wide smirk. 

She leaned forward, the desk Aaron sat at rattling as her weight bore down on it through her arms. Aaron blinked; the collar on her blouse was loose, shirt parted to reveal just a hint of her cleavage underneath. He leaned back, suddenly uncomfortable, mouth and nose assaulted by the scent of honey and flowers, only to gasp as her hand met his chin, thumb and forefinger running back along the edge of his jaw.

“I’m going to devour you,” she said, her voice low and chillingly straightforward. “I’m going to pump your body full of venom and watch you shrink down to the size of a doll.” Her hand shifted, fingers moving to let her scratch the nail on her forefinger under his jaw and chin. “I’m going to work you down my throat, into my stomach, and render your body into food.”

He gasped, and tried to open his mouth to speak, only to find her grip to firm to let him move his mouth. She tutted, shaking her head. “No talking. I didn’t invite you to speak yet.”

“You’re going to be eaten. That much is your punishment. But I will give you an opportunity to escape absolute destruction.”

Her hand released him; she shifted away and upward, standing well over his head while he sat. He followed her, feeling a nervous sweat roll down the back of his neck. “What do I need to do?” he asked, almost choking on the question.

“It’s very simple.” She smiled, resting her hands on her hips. “If you can satisfy my sexual appetite, I’ll spare your soul from being consumed. As long as that much of you remains intact, I can retrieve you from within me.”

His heart raced; for a moment, he thought about the door, far at the back of the classroom. It would be useless, of course; he’d be so hampered from running by the desk that she would grab him in an instant. At that point, she would likely simply consume him and let that be the end of it. He had nothing to bargain with, and no way to call for help.

Her eyes stared down at him, bright like flickering fire in the setting sunlight. “Well,” she pushed, tapping a finger against her hip. “What will it be?”

He breathed deep, and cleared his head. Don’t think about the danger. Think about her, the allure and the power of her, the invitation laid out for him. “I’ll…” Thoughts spiraled around one another. This was outrageous, the fantasy of so many young men and women. This was dangerous; he was sure to die either way. What proof did he have that he could trust her? Surely, surely she wouldn’t really kill him. “I’ll do it.”

Her smirk became a grin, showing sharp fangs behind her lips. “Then come to me,” she said, waiting in front of her desk, dropping down to roughly his height. “Show me how you treat a lover, young man.”

The desk dragged over the floorboards, the sound of metal against hardwood loud in the otherwise empty room. Aaron stood, breathing deep, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest as he took quick, sure steps towards the teacher in front of him. Don’t think about it, he kept repeating, don’t think about it, just act…

His hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling it down to the desktop behind her. Before she could gasp in surprise, his mouth pressed tight against hers.

His tongue brushed over the surface of her lips, tasting the same honey he’d breathed in earlier. Honey and pepper and just warmth, liquid warmth that flowed through her skin into his. He broke their kiss long enough to breathe again, then dove back in upon her, insistent, eager. Her tongue teased at the tip of his and he chased it into her mouth, the split fork at its end strange in how it fluttered over the surface of his own.

He stood astride her tail, easing himself closer, pressing his knees into its bulk. It surprised him how warm it felt. Warm, and either smooth or coarse, depending upon how he moved with or against how her scales lay. They were plush underneath, his legs sinking in against her, feeling flesh and fat and organs move within her body. His hands moved over her scales, following them upward, tracing their edges with his fingertips.

His hands pulled up over her skirt - for now - before sliding up under her blouse. Her skin was firm, drawn hard over muscle, every touch and motion of his fingers and palms eliciting a twist or turn from her body. Quiet gasps leaked through their lips; some hers, and some his. He let his hands confirm to her hips, riding the high arch of their bones upward and around, back to her spine and upwards, upwards…

He paused, pulling back from her just slightly, fingers running over fabric and metal. He felt around, like a blind man trying to read, fingertips trying to sort out hooks from loops, where one ended and the other began. His heartbeat became all too evident to him once more, struggling to pick apart the clasps holding her bra together.

Her laughter tickled at his ear, followed by the light touch of her lips there as well. “Have you never undressed a lady before? I understand it can be challenging for a boy who’s unfamiliar with these things.”

He blushed; he hated to admit how inexperienced he was. It was probably true for many of his peers, but they all boasted otherwise - to admit to incompetence was fatal to one’s standing in the pecking order. “Sorry,” he said, breaking her gaze. “I haven’t actually done this before.”

“I expected as much.” There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. Or, maybe, he was only imagining it. “Unbutton my blouse for me, then, at least? I’ll make this a bit easier for you.”

He leaned back, taking stock, letting his hands slide free of her skin. Perhaps, he thought, he wasn’t entirely lost.

He eased himself downward, hands on her tail for support. Ms. Nejem shifted in surprise, tail bucking slightly beneath him, its mass pushing against his legs and bottom. His face pressed up against her chest; that much at least, he thought, worked fine enough in his favor. He felt for the first of the fastened buttons with his mouth and, upon finding it, began to work at widening the buttonhole with his teeth. He tugged carefully at the fabric, mind swimming with the warmth and scent of her skin just beneath this garment, tongue pushing at the small, plastic disc until it popped through the hole.

Ms. Nejem hummed in pleasure, her hand coming to rest on his head as he worked his way downward. When the last button finally loosened, she breathed deep, chest rising outward, Aaron looking upward with his cheek against her abdomen, entranced by the bosom held tight together in her bra. Her shoulders rolled back, clothing easily sliding down her arms. With a shake of one wrist, and then the other, weight balancing between them, her blouse fluttered away, spilling into a pile on the floor.

Her body rotated under him, turning until her back was facing him. Her forearms laid out on the desktop, holding herself up. “Perhaps this,” she said, glancing back at him through a fringe of black, lustrous hair, “will make your task easier?”

He nodded, working more easily this time, his fingers unfastening hook after hook along the back of her bra. Once finally separated, he slid his hands up under the straps, tugging them downward, lifting her arms enough to slide them under and let the undergarment drop below them. He traced the length of her limbs back upward before following her collarbone to her breasts, fingers slowly curling around their shape. They felt so plush, so easily pliant under his fingers, but this much he knew well enough to move carefully, testing each touch, listening for how she might respond to each tentative pressure. 

He brought his hands around them from below, arms pressed tight against her ribs, lifting her up and back towards him. Her lungs swelled as she drew in a sharp breath. A finger worked a slow circle over the nub on each breast; he could feel the sound of her pleasure as he kissed his way up the length of her neck. Each he caught between two fingers, squeezing just firmly enough; her hips jerked back, grinding up against his own, the bulge of his erection caught tight between their bodies.

“You’re clearly enjoying me,” she said, breath trembling as his open palms massaged her chest, pressing her breasts together, moving upward, around, and under again.

“I am,” he said, sounding more sure of himself. He wanted to hear her voice ring with pleasure, not only now to guarantee his safety, perhaps, but just simply to see it overwhelm this beautiful woman who had called him to her. “But we’re not ready for that yet.”

“Oh?” Her voice seemed to tease at him, doubting him. “Is that so?”

“It is, ma’am.”

He stepped back, moving his legs away from her tail, then moved his hands downward, over her waist, tracing the contours of her muscle beneath her skin, before closing tight around her hips. He turned her, her arms stumbling from the unexpected force of the gesture, knocking loose name placards and cups full of pens and pencils. Before they could find purchase again, her back landed against the tabletop, tail spilling out over the front of the desk, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

His hands moved downward to her belt, quickly unfastening it; her skirt easily slid along the smooth surface of her scales. Wide, plush panels covered her underbellly, meeting the smaller scales that wrapped around the upper surface of her tail. “I’m afraid,” she started, lifting her head to look up at him, “that I do not resemble a human woman as much in this part of my body.”

“That’s fine, ma’am.” His fingers traced downward, testing, feeling, until he felt a slight dip in the middle of one of her underbelly scales. The tremble to her body that followed made it clear that he’d found what he was looking for.

He moved his fingertips downward, then up again, feeling for the length of the cleft in her scales, testing for how sensitive it might be. Each contact between them made the bulk of her tail shudder; when he finally felt sure enough to part her slit open, the sound of her drawing breath in rang in his ears.

Inside, the walls of her vulva stretched apart under his fingers. The damp within rested on her folds like drop of dew. Bowing his head, he traced his tongue over their ridges, drinking up each drop, lifting it up off of her, cradling it like a treasure as it saturated its tongue before letting it trickle back to his throat. Down his tongue sank, between folds, seeking out reservoirs of the same, thumbs gently holding her open.

He could feel her tail rock up and down, scales and skin running over his lips and his chin before dropping away again. Only his hands held her close enough to allow him to keep exploring, he squeezed on them, stroking his palms over her scales. “You don’t have to do a thing,” he said with a smile, heart still fluttering, still nervous, but so enthralled with the way she responded to him that he wanted to press onwards.

She steadied herself, his fingers slipping deeper, parting layer upon layer, sliding back the cover of skin concealing the gem of her clit set down within her. He brushed the tip of his tongue over it, feeling her buck beneath him, the hiss through her teeth and the sharp cry that followed. His tongue curled, cradling it, gliding over it and down, away again, meandering in a wide circle through her before returning.

Fingers raked through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. Muscles within her tail twitched, trying to hold themselves still, trying to let him work and struggling against the desire, the instinct to seize upon a mate she’d found satisfactory. “Please,” she said, voice shaking, every fiber of her body trembling with coiled-up passion, “Please, no more teasing. You can have me!”

He nodded and rose up, arm wrapping under and around her waist, straining as it lifted her upward. Her tail followed him easily, back towards the wall, her hands making quick work of his belt buckle and the front of his slacks. Both fell with a clatter of noise, kicked aside as long, thin fingers withdrew his penis from beneath his shorts.

With one hand, he kept her tail-slit held open, guiding himself towards it. He settled the crown of his penis down into her folds, sighing as they wrapped around him. Upward he moved, letting the tip run up over her clit before retreating back again. Her head lay against his shoulder, arms wrapped around his back, hot breath spilling down his shoulders. “Stop,” she hissed, a moan she’d fought to hold back spilling over her lips. “Stop teasing and just enter me!”

One last time, he thought, rocking back up over the sensitive bead hidden within her. Nails dug into his skin, leaving long, pink trails where they scratched. Then one time more. And another. Finally, as her nails threatened to tear into his skin in anticipation, he shifted down, redirected himself, and eased himself into her depths.

She was snug, he thought, feeling her grip tightly around him as he entered her. Not tight, not resisting, but fitting just right around the length and girth of him. One hand held to her hip, the other pressing tight to the wall behind them, he rocked back and forth inside of her. Their hips rolled together, keeping him close, refusing to let go complete of the solid heat sinking down into her body.

Time and space seemed to dissolve; how long had they been at this? He couldn’t remember, and he didn’t entirely care. Something felt hot in his belly, a familiar sensation from nights curled up under a blanket at home, but never shared with another. Never co-mingled with the rising heat in a body joined with his. He grit his teeth, pressing his face against her neck, fighting against his own body to hold back, to linger, to let him hold on just a moment or two longer.

His body, however, refused; his seed rushed forth, pouring into her, hot and sticky and clinging to them both. Her body had been convulsing beneath him for some moments now, her writhing and shouts only now starting to subside. A trail of saliva trickled forth from the corner of her mouth, cloud after cloud of her breath rolling over his head.

She moaned, running her hand over her abdomen, the other holding his hip, keeping him close. “You know,” she gasped out between breaths, “what happens now. Don’t you?”

He nodded. He was ready. His body still felt awash with the heat of their lovemaking. Soon, that heat would envelope him entirely. 

Her arms wrapped tight once more around his back, head lunging towards him. Fangs sank down into his neck; something poured into him, through them, stinging and burning as it raced into his blood. He gasped, trying for air, shaking as the poison began to race through his body.

Slowly at first, he felt himself fall away from her. He slid loose from her slit, penis leaving a trail of pale, translucent fluid over her scales, his face resting for a moment against her breasts before falling away from those as well. Her body stretched upwards, towering over him, brilliant red eyes looking down on him tenderly as he seemed to fall through space.

Her hands cradled him, torso draped across her palms. He was, perhaps, the size of a little girl’s doll. Upwards she carried him, past the sculpted beauty of the woman he had poured his adoration upon, up to her lips, her tongue sliding out to lick the front of him clean.

The inside of her mouth was frightening, alien. Deep in the back of it, her tongue disappeared back into an oval-shaped sheath. She lacked human teeth at all; everything inside were pointed fangs designed to rip and tear, to render meat and fat from bone. A cold sweat clung to his skin. That’s why, of course, her body was so fit, so lean. Every piece of it was calibrated by millions of years of evolution, physiological trial and error, to breed the most perfect and sensuous predator. 

Her fingers wrapped tight around his ankles, lifting him upward. He fought the urge to let his arms hang limp over his head, wrapping them instead over his chest. Below, Ms. Nejem stared upward, breathing, dark hair tousled from their encounter. A thin, forked tongue licked over her lips, maneuvering around her fangs as it anticipated the treat dangling before her.

“You’re going to be delicious,” she said.

“I hope I will be.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. Raising her other hand, she prodded his cheek with a fingertip. “You’re not scared? You’re about to melt away to nothing inside me.”

“I am,” he said, fighting with his mind to not think about what awaited him inside the teacher’s stomach. “I just… I trust you. I trust that you’ll keep your word.”

She smiled; he descended, lowered a bit closer, until her neck stretched out and brought her lips to his face. Her kiss was warm, cushioning him, cradling him for the moment they touched. “I will,” she said, warm breath rolling over him. 

Her mouth opened, a ring of rust-red against her skin. Her tongue teased at him, brushing against his face, his back, his shoulder and chest. The world outside slipped away, replaced by the arches and trembling walls inside her. Her breathing roared in his ears. A swallow like deep, distant thunder rattled him, sending a mouthful of saliva down her throat ahead of him.

She eased him over her tongue and its sheath, back to where the opening of her throat stretched wide, waiting for him. Slick, smooth walls wrapped around his face. Her tongue lapped at his thigh, curled over his loins, taking one last taste of him before releasing his legs and allowing the inescapable pull of her esophagus draw him inside of her.

He moaned as she swallowed, again and again; each pull of her throat taking more of his body into her. Her esophagus itself wrapped around him like a second skin, radiating the heat of her body into his own. It was as though he was melting into her, liquifying within her throat, the boundary between where he stopped and she began becoming more uncertain as he sank deeper.

Her heartbeat throbbed steadily; she was calm, at easy, body sliding into the easy post-bliss moment that comes after sex. This was as natural to her as an old-fashioned debutante smoking a slim cigarette. A post-coitus treat to help relax; he closed his eyes, imagining her sitting back in her chair, feeling him sink down into her body, settling into whatever space served as her stomach. Wrapping her arms around herself, dozing off behind her desk before wrapping up and heading home for the night.

Deeper he went. The steady timing of her heart faded, muted by the slow, steady rush of air in and out of lungs; the liquid sound of blood flowing closer, then further away again. How far inside of her was he? It was hard to say. There was only the darkness of this narrow passage, wrapped tight around him, with nothing to offer any bearings or sense of direction.

The walls widened, then; became thicker, more plush. A little at a time, the rippling walls holding him pushed forward, relinquishing their grip to empty his body into somewhere else. The walls rumbled; a rattling groan filled the air, mixed with the wet squelch of the walls around him sliding against one another. This, he realized, was his destination. Her stomach, probably somewhere deep in her tail.

He let his head fall back, sinking between two folds, the wet shlick of them pressing into his ears and cheeks loud over everything else. Something wet was already covering much of his body, oozing out over every corner, every bit of him. A prickling sensation, a tactile white noise, buzzed over every nerve in his skin. Her body was already getting to work on him, he thought. He was little more than a meal to process for it, and it was not about to waste time.

He closed his eyes and breathed out, letting himself sink down into the warmth of her. He was already moving deeper, slowly pulled further into the depths of her belly. His fingers and the bottoms of his feet already felt numb; he was sure that the rest of him was soon to follow. All that was left now was to rest, and dream, and wonder what it would be like to have his soul cradled within the body of another, waiting to be released.

It’d make quite a story, once he returned.


End file.
